6267

The extent to which upscale American and British retailers are betting on 6267 as the great hope for Italian fashion's future could be gauged by the impressive lineup in the front row. "We're here because they're the only young ones coming up, and people are talking about what they're doing at Malo," said one buyer. No one had exactly laid out the welcome mat for the audience, though. It was after 8:30 by the time everyone battled through two major door crushes, and polite expressions were wearing off.

To be fair to Tommaso Aquilano and Roberto Rimondi, the clothes on the runway weren't as shambolically amateurish as the hospitality arrangements. The collection was strong on coats, starting with an enveloping gray cashmere edge-to-edge wrap, and a camel man-tailored coat, seamed at the torso. The designers also came up with good showpieces at the end, like extra-chunky cable knits and a shaggy goat-hair chubby. But the middle of the show was too wobblyit was derivative of Azzedine Alaïa in the sculpted, big-shouldered, tiny-waisted gray jackets, while the overcomplicated dresses read as a clumsy homage to everything Alber Elbaz had covered far more prettily last season.

Edited by world-class buyers, what 6267 has to offer might still respectably fill a niche. But to up their game, this pair needs to hire advice on presentation and making sure their identity comes through more strongly.